


You Caused Me Pain (So I Did The Same)

by cam_neo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Graphic Descriptions of Violence Against Dementors, M/M, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cam_neo/pseuds/cam_neo
Summary: Harry was really not having a good summer.The Dursley’s were bad, the dementor only slightly worse, but waking up alone in the bright St. Mungo’s hospital room to the sound of Alastor Moody snarling at a terrified nurse was an experience.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Being A Dumbass, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	You Caused Me Pain (So I Did The Same)

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a short fic.. I think. 
> 
> Title comes from the song ‘Bust Your Windows’ by Jazmine Sullivan.
> 
> The song for this chapter is ‘Leave (Get Out)’ by JoJo

_I wanted you right here with me_   
_But I have no choice you've got to leave_   
_Because my heart is breaking with_   
_Every word I'm saying, I gave up everything I had_   
_On something that just would not last_   
_But I refuse to cry_   
_No tears will fall from these eyes_

_Leave (Get Out) - JoJo_

___________________________________________________________

**I.**

Life was not going very well for Harry Potter. (Which he felt was a bit of an understatement.) It’s not to say that life had ever gone particularly well for him, but lately it seemed as if anything and everything that could go wrong is, in fact, going wrong. All at once. Like if Murphy’s Law, the old adage of “when it rains, it pours” and fate all sat down at a pub together and took the chance to Plot Harry Potter’s Fifth Year. The end results were not very fun for him. Another understatement. 

There was a dementor in front of him. _A dementor._

“What the fuck,” he rasped, hands reaching to his empty pockets for the wand he left on the table by his bed when he was pulled unceremoniously out of the house that morning. Petunia had guests over. He had been wandering Little Whining in his ratty flannel pants and a thin shirt all day. Harry hadn’t even had time to grab shoes. He was barefoot. In front of a dementor. _Oh god._   
  
barefoot and _wandless_. He was fucked.

It had been an unconventionally hot summer. Harry had spent part of the day melting silently behind his aunts rose bushes, listening to the mindless gossip floating from inside the cool house. He figured that he had sweat enough to keep the roses fed for weeks. which was gross. 

Harry missed that heat now. There was permafrost forming between his _toes._ His chest ached with the cold and his breath froze in his lungs. There were droplets of ice forming along his skin where the beads of sweat had pooled together two minutes earlier. Harry could _feel_ as his blood started to freeze inside his veins. And the physical effects of the dementor were nowhere as intense as the soul-crushing _darkness_ that was starting to creep into Harry’s mind. He felt as if his soul was being compressed into a vacuum tube. He heard his mother scream and he felt the weight of Cedric’s cold body in fall into his arms again. He could smell the rot and the ice and the despair from the dementor hovering in front of him. It was, overall, not a great way to start his summer.  
  
Harry’s glasses had cracked from the solid layer of ice that coated them, but that really didn’t matter because his vision was starting to darken around the edges. He struggled to his feet, unaware of when he had collapsed in the first place, only to fall back down to his knees again. His legs burned with the cold. The dementor reached for him with thin, rotten grey arms and he lurched away from them. It was difficult to move through the cold fog creeping around him but there was a visceral, animalistic part of him that refused to submit to the cold despair. He didn’t suffer through 15 minutes of Voldemort’s _monologue_ only to be taken out by a _dementor._ Oh no, if that noseless prick wants him dead, he’ll have to do it himself. Or well.. he could try. 

if there is one thing Harry Potter’s good at, it’s not dying when he damn well should. 

He latched on to the spark of anger that had been burning inside him since the light left Cedrics eyes and he _held on._ He felt the tugging of his soul trying to leave his chest and Harry _refused._ He glared spitefully at the black void where the creatures face should be and he spit out a viscous snarl.

“ _no._ ”   
  
The black that had been creeping around the edges of his vision gave way to the blinding blue of his patronus as Prongs exploded into life before him, his ethereal eyes blazing as the stag bucked the dementor away. Prongs caught the creature in his long antlers and the dementor _screamed._ Harry had never heard a dementor scream before. it was awful. It was sound of cracked, dirty nails scraping down a dusty chalkboard. The hooded creature swooped away from tunnel and Harry was left panting on the ground. 

“Bloody buggering fuck!” Harry swore as he thunked his head down on the pavement. He felt the warm glow of his patronus as Prongs returned to him before flickering out of existence. Harry just lay there as the warmth returned to his aching bones. His vision was swimming in and out focus and a film of grey was starting to creep into his peripherals. The last thing he heard before sinking into unconsciousness was a fail voice and rapid, light footsteps.

“Oh dear!” Arabella Figg exclaimed at the scene before her.   
  


**II.**

Harry was really, _really_ not having a good summer.

The Dursley’s were bad, the dementor only slightly worse, but waking up alone in the bright St. Mungo’s hospital room to the sound of Alastor Moody snarling at a terrified nurse was an _experience._ One he would like to never relive. The immediate embarrassment of realizing he was stark naked hidden only underneath a thin blanket before the mighty powers of moody’s magic eye? _Terrible._ Though the embarrassment was quickly washed away with the realization that moody has probably seen everybody naked already. Then he was filled with the horrible thought of Barty Crouch jr. being in a school full of children (and _Dumbledore_ ) while using Moody’s Mighty Magic Eye and Harry promptly wished he would pass out again. 

He wasn’t that lucky.   
  
Without even (visibly) glancing his way, Moody paused his snarling to growl out a low “ah, you’re up.” and turned to clunk down the hallway. Harry wondered briefly where Moody left to but within a minute the bushy ball of brown hair that was Hermione Granger barreled into his room full speed, followed closely by Ron Weasley. 

He meant to say a cheery “hey guys! Long time no see!” But what came out was an undignified squeal of pain, slightly muffled under the pile of thick dark hair and awkward teenage limbs. Hermione untangled herself after a few minutes of ignoring his pained rasps. She had watery eyes and a slight wobble in her voice as she talked a mile a minute.

“- thought you were dead! they found you passed out, half-kissed. Half dead.” She choked and punched him on his shoulder. “Can’t even go two weeks without trying to die, I swear.” 

“Missed you too, ‘Mione” He smiled weakly at his friends. He really had missed them, even though it had only been two weeks, the summer break had been trickling by excruciatingly slowly. Every second he spent locked away at the Dursleys had felt like years. He was glad that he was out, even if it had taken a dementor to get him away. 

The next few hours were spent catching up on what happened during his three day, medically- induced dementor nap. His emotions ranged everywhere from intrigued and slightly embarrassed (Hermione had been enjoying a summer trip to Rome with her parents which was cut short due to his minor incident and really ‘Mione you didn’t need to end your vacation for me _I’m fine_ ) and angered exasperation (he really should have expected the ministry letter.)

They tried to snap his wand. While he was in the hospital. Harry wasn’t even surprised. 

“I’ve never seen Professor Dumbledore so angry before!” Hermione had exclaimed as she told him about the _squadron_ of aurors that had filed into his hospital room only fifteen minutes after he had been admitted. Apparently an entire unit of aurors was deemed necessary to detain an unconscious fourteen year-old school boy. Harry tried not to be impressed by his own badass-ness. He failed.   
  
The aurors had been blocked by an outraged and incensed Dumbledore. Harry had a difficult time imagining the usually genial old man as anything other the twinkly-eyed, apathetic menace he always was but Ron had described his eyes as having “lost every twinkle, the cool blue frosting over into a hard ice that not even diamonds could scratch. Bloody terrifying, it was.”

Harry was just disappointed that all the action happened while he was comatose.

Of course though, he hadn’t had his wand on him. They couldn’t have snapped it even if the headmaster wasn’t single handily tearing their livelihoods to shreds with a couple of well-aimed quips about the aurors mothers. Harry thought Ron was probably embellishing some of the details here. He didn’t think Dumbledore would tell ‘yo mama jokes but it had been a _very_ strange summer. The missing wand raised a couple of questions about how he had produced a patronus in the midst of being thoroughly kissed by a dementor but Harry has always been the undisputed king of deflection.   
  
The ministry settled for a trial. 

It was scheduled to take place in two days. Harry figured they wanted to do it while he was comatose and it was just his good fortune to have woken up before the set date. The newspapers were having a field day with the news of his attack. Rita Skeeter herself flipping back and forth between calling Harry a “filthy liar” and “the poor, innocent victim of the ministry’s bumbling idiocy” depending entirely on what she felt would sell more on any particular day. Harry himself wondered exactly what lies he had told while he was asleep. 

“Should I get a solicitor?” Harry had wondered aloud after Hermione’s passionate ranting had tapered off into equally passionate (but generally much quieter) mumbling. Ron had just shrugged one shoulder and told him, “probably, yea.” While Hermione had leveled him with an intensely thoughtful but slightly worrying stare. She had pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill from her depthless pockets and set about making a list of requirements necessary for his potential solicitors. Her parting words to him as the terrified nurse from before shuffled them from his room were “I’ll have a comprehensive list for you to look at by tomorrow!” 

Ron had just pressed a slightly smushed package of chocolate frogs into his hands and left with a softly muttered “glad you’re okay, mate.”

Harry really, _really_ loved his friends.   
  
He was slightly disappointed that he’d only been accosted by two people so far (disregarding the nurse, the less said about the truly alarming amount of potions he’d had poured down his throat, the better.) Harry figured he’d at least get to see an adult he had actually met before, but apparently Dumbledore was off doing important Dumbledore things. Remus was off doing important werewolf things, and even Sirius was busy being a wanted criminal. Harry tried not to feel too self-pitying. He mostly failed. 

The rest of the night was spent trying to lure his newest order guard into playing exploding snap with him to the exasperation and begrudging amusement of her partner. Tonks was surprisingly easy to sway for an order member but looking at her bright, bubblegum pink hair, Harry figured he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was remarkably like Sirius. They were probably related.   
  
It’s a uniquely difficult task to try to have a good time while confined in a hospital bed. Harry was almost grateful when a (different, less terrified) nurse came to give him a sleeping drought. He didn’t even think to deny it, not wanting to risk whatever dementor fueled nightmares his brain would try to traumatize him with. Harry sank blissfully into a dreamless sleep, hoping the next day would suck considerably less ass. 

**Author's Note:**

> um.. I really don’t know. I started this fic with an idea but after the first sentence everything just kinda.. dissolved? Not sure where this fic is taking me but it’s one of those things that just kinda writes itself and when I try to enforce my will upon the words they just give me the two-fingered salute and do what they want anyways. So honestly this fic could go in any direction.
> 
> Also the songs mentioned above have no actual connection to the fic, I’ve just been listening to a lot of angry break-up songs lately.. despite the fact that I’ve been willfully single for a solid three years 
> 
> So.. hope ya liked it!


End file.
